Kind-Of-Sort-Of
by Untiltheveryend7
Summary: Of James Potter, Lily Evans, and the aftermath of an opened window.


**_Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. All rights go to JK Rowling/Warner Bros. I do not profit in any way._**

Kind-Of-Sort-Of

Chapter One: Flying Through Open Windows

Lily was glad to be home for Christmas, for once.

Usually she found being home from Hogwarts exceptionally boring, and it meant that she had to contend with Petunia and her snide remarks. However, this year Petunia was spending the holiday with her fiancé and his family, and Lily couldn't say she was all that disappointed.

And then there was the fact that at home, she didn't have to deal with James Potter - her kind-of-sort-of boyfriend with his stupid jealousy complex.

They'd left Hogwarts on bad terms, after he'd punched a sixth-year Ravenclaw for making "inappropriate comments" about her.

Lily couldn't care less what the Ravenclaw had said, but there was absolutely no need for senseless violence and she'd _told_ him that, but he didn't apologize for what he'd done; stubbornly insisting the boy had deserved it.

James didn't understand that he couldn't act like that anymore. Not if he wanted to stay Head Boy, and Quidditch Captain. He needed to be more responsible, and what drove Lily mad the most was that it was always about her. He'd been trying to behave, but when it came to her, all of that went out of the window.

It was completely infuriating.

It was Christmas Eve, and Lily said goodnight to her parents early and went upstairs to her room. They'd had ancient Aunt Patricia over for dinner, and she'd commented on Lily's lack of boyfriend about four times, consequently making Lily think of her kind-of-sort-of boyfriend, and putting her in a terrible mood.

She'd received two letters from James in the week they'd been apart, and she hadn't replied to either of them.

Lily climbed the stairs, walked across the corridor, and opened her bedroom door.

James Potter was sitting cross-legged on her bed.

He grinned at her.

Lily's mouth dropped open.

"What are you _doing_ here?!" she said in a harsh whisper, closing the door quietly behind her and turning back to look at James.

She could have cursed him, she was so angry. Angry that he'd broken into her house, that he'd sat on her bed. Angry that he looked as good as she'd remembered - better, even - and angry that the false hope that _maybe_ she'd gotten over him was completely shattered.

Lily's heartbeat was accelerated, and her face was red, and she was angry that he could get under her skin _so easily_.

Mostly, Lily was infuriated that she wasn't as angry as she'd have liked to be.

He was still smiling at her, but she could tell that he was at least a little nervous by the way he ran a hand through his hair.

"You didn't write me back," he said, his smile wavering slightly.

Lily's eyes narrowed further, and James climbed off her bed, standing across from her.

"There was a reason for that," she said.

"Listen, Evans-"

"Don't 'Evans' me," Lily said, rounding on him. "I didn't respond to your letters, so _what_? Doesn't mean you're allowed to _break into my house_!"

"Well, how else was I supposed to contact you?" he said, eyebrows raised.

"You could have tried waiting one more week!" she said incredulously, cursing the fact she had to keep quiet, because she'd really have loved nothing more than to yell at him.

James's mouth dropped into a frown. "I don't think you understand," he said, "Having you angry at me is driving me _mental_."

"Yeah, well," Lily said, drawing herself up to her full height. "Turning up in my bedroom is pretty mental, even by your standards. Now, if you'll kindly _get out_..."

"No."

"Get out _now_, Potter, or I swear I'll call my parents."

"No, you won't," he challenged her, and Lily broke their gaze for a few seconds, hating that he could see right through her.

"I really don't want to talk to you right now."

"Did you even _read_ my letters?"

"Of course I read them, you stupid prat."

"And?"

"And I decided not to write back, because I'm still mightily pissed off with you, James Potter."

James sighed and ran a hand through his hair, leaning back from Lily slightly.

She wished she wasn't affected by his piercing gaze sweeping over hers, or his strong jawline, or the way his hair stuck up in every direction.

_Focus, Evans._

"I'm sorry," he said finally, his eyes meeting hers. "Okay? I'm sorry."

"No, you're not!" Lily said, and she felt her anger rise up again. "Don't say things you don't mean just to get me to forgive you, Potter, because it won't work."

"Oh, I mean it," he said, inching a little closer. His hand twitched like he was thinking of taking Lily's, but it seemed he wisely chose against it. "I'm not going to apologise for punching the bastard, but I'm sorry for upsetting you... somehow."

"Somehow?"

"It didn't even cross my mind that you'd be upset," James hurried on, "honestly."

Lily looked at him. "You don't get it, do you?"

James looked entirely bemused, and Lily went on without waiting for an answer.

"I don't need you to protect me, James, no matter what people say."

"He called you a-"

"I don't care what he said," Lily cut him off. "Enough people are saying it. You can't go around hitting every idiot who says a thing against me. You'll get yourself into trouble, and it'll all be for nothing!"

"All for nothing?" James repeated, frowning at her. "Are you mental, Lily? How can I just let people say horrible, prejudiced, often vulgar things about you in my hearing, and not do _anything_?"

James's hand which had been running through his hair was now pulling at it frustratedly, and without even thinking about it, Lily reached out, easing it out of his black mop and slipping her fingers between his.

"You're a Marauder," she said, holding their interlocked hands up between them. "But you're also Head Boy. You have to stop thinking with your fists. You can give people detention, take housepoints. Just don't hurt them, for God's sake."

"But they deserve it."

"James."

He looked down at her, and God knows when they'd gotten so close, separated by mere inches.

"Alright," he said, with a sigh of resignation.

"Alright?"

"Alright," his eyes were hazel as ever, and bright as they gazed into hers, despite the slight frown gracing his mouth. "I won't hit him again."

"Him?"

"-Anyone," he choked a little on the word as it came out, and his bottom lip jutted out ever-so-slightly. "Merlin, Evans, are you sure? Not even the Slytherins?"

Lily smiled slightly when his arms finally reached out to enclose her, and she couldn't bring herself to pull away when her head rested against his chest.

"I'm still angry at you," she said mildly.

"No, you're not," he said. She felt the slight pressure of his lips on the top of her head.

"Am," Lily insisted. "You still broke into my house."

James pulled himself away, and held her at arm length, smiling crookedly. "I flew through your open window. That isn't breaking in. Besides, it's _romantic_."

Lily couldn't quite help her own small grin as she said, "No, it's weird. What if I'd been changing?"

"All the better," James smirked, and Lily let out a laugh and tried to slap his arms away, but they only pulled her closer, and their bodies were pressed together. She looked up at him, and saw her own grin reflected back.

"You are the biggest prat I've ever had the misfortune to meet," Lily said, seconds before their lips collided.

* * *

Lily wasn't sure how or when it had happened, but James Potter was in her bed.

Well, perhaps she was vaguely aware that she'd pulled him onto it, but that was besides the point.

He moaned against her lips as her hands travelled leisurely under his shirt, savouring the feel of his bare skin brushing against her palms, and his hands explored the bare skin of her lower back, leaving trails of goosebumps wherever he touched.

And then they were pulling away, but not too far away, just far enough that their eyes could focus on the other.

Their soft smiles were identical, somehow.

James knew what he was feeling, but he knew she wasn't ready to hear it.

And Lily didn't know yet, but when he held her close as they fell asleep, the thought skirted around her conscious mind, sticking close to the shadows of her subconsious.

And in her dreams, falling in love with James Potter didn't seem like such an absurd concept.


End file.
